Creeksea.

The delights of the River Crouch just prior to being eaten alive by mosquitos.

In days of yore so I'm told, the Essex Man of these mozzie infested marshes would travel away to places like Suffolk or Norfolk to find a wife. She would be brought back and soon die of malaria,(a disease he and his county-men had bred an immunity to). Hopefully she would have lived long enough to have borne him a child, but either way after a while he would traipse off in search of another unwitting bride.

Hard times.